


Tanta guerra me dio alas de metal

by 2davidbeckham3



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, MLS Fic!! Miami Baby, excessive use of social media, finally finished it!!! i wrote this in a week basically and boy was it a struggle, just an excuse to talk about florida and write cameos, rating change bc swearing, the second chapter is a playlist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2davidbeckham3/pseuds/2davidbeckham3
Summary: Iker had a few offers on his table.Literally.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> I envisioned this fic a bit more melancholy than how it came out/ Honestly, the story ran away from me and, it's pretty basic, but I had a lot of fun writing the social media bits (even though i said i wouldn't try to write people texting anymore). You can probably tell how the fic is actually two story lines forced into one, but I apologize.
> 
>  
> 
> Brace yourself for a lot of weird florida references - coming from someone that grew up in central fl and not miami (and recently moved to pennsylvania /crey), made up players for the miami team as well as made up transfers (gotta fill up those three DP spots), and a muddled up timeline with references to this season and last (due to the fact that i planned this fic out before a lot of people retired/left their teams)
> 
> If you guys want me to include translations, just tell me! (I used google translate for the phrase in Italian, sorry!)
> 
> ANYWAYS. HOPE YOU ENJOY. (sorry if everything seems a bit rushed)
> 
> shoutout to @doubtthestars! I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for your comments on my other fic! Your feedback and encouragement inspired me to write. I esp hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> (unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine)

Iker had a few offers on his table.

 

Literally.

 

They had long moved past plain manila folders to house possible contracts and renewals. There now sat four clean leather binders in front of him on his dining room table, three of which had unfamiliar insignias engraved onto the cover. The one in the center, a bit browner than the rest, donned Porto’s crest.

 

“These are just preliminary offers,” his agent began, following his statement with a large sweeping motion of his arm over the binders. “They want you to contact them if you’re interested and continue negotiations from there. Sort out the logistics, that kind of thing. You know the drill.”

 

In fact, Iker did not know the drill. It was only recently he had given up the title as a one-club player. He worried his lip, glancing at the offers on the table in front of him, being careful not to linger too long on Porto’s and give his agent the wrong idea. Just last week, the president had walked up to him and congratulated him for a _“spectacular game with spectacular saves”_ while very enthusiastically shaking his hand.

_“I hope you consider renewing your contract with us, Iker. We could really use you next season.” Da Costa smiled, continuing to shake Iker’s hand while he spoke._

_Iker’s cheeks hurt from keeping up his polite grin. “Thank you, sir.”_

“Consider all of you options,” his agent continued, pulling Iker from his train of thought. “They all have their drawbacks.” He stood up, walking to the edge of the table. “Some more than others,” he murmured almost as if he was talking to himself, thumbing the corner of the binder closest to the edge. Nondescript, bright and glossy black.  “I’m here if you need me,” he spoke up, fixing Iker with a tight-lipped smile that was closer to a grimace than a grin, “but I’ll see you in a week.”

 

Iker nodded, standing up to shake the man’s hand before he made his way out the door. Thankfully, his agent didn’t mind showing himself out. A “prior engagement” had cut their meeting short, but it turned out to be a blessing rather than a curse. The binder he had been fiddling with caught Iker’s eye and he couldn’t bite back the unprofessional lump of anticipation that rose in his throat.

 

Nondescript didn’t even cut it. There was no club crest on the binder. No logo. No name. No nothing. No indication as to what club’s offer lay beneath. Just a league’s badge. It was a simple badge, a generic shield outline bifurcated by a diagonal line. There were three stars in the top section of the shield and, on top of them, three letters.

 

_MLS._

 

*

 

 

 “You’re not supposed to call.”

 

_“What, can two friends not talk to each other anymore or something?”_

Iker’s thoughts were muddled half-formed sentences in his brain. English felt heavy on his tongue and every word like glass shards in his mouth, seemingly impossible to piece together, painful to force out, broken and stuttered. It was easier on paper, electronically with a dictionary and translator at his fingertips. It was frustrating to be forced to talk in simple sentences.

 

“David, you know why.”

 

_“You called me, Iker.”_

 

He didn’t. Iker had texted him, actually. But, then again, he was probably slightly at fault.  Iker did end up debating pressing _send_ for a few minutes, before he finally decided “Fuck it” after reading some of the bonuses David’s Miami team offered. _are you serious?_ was a pretty vague message, so Iker couldn’t really blame David for calling and wanting Iker to clarify what he was talking about. However, Iker did blame himself for not calculating time zones correctly so that David’s call wouldn’t happen or that he would text back days later when Iker could brush the message off as nothing important. Last he saw on Instagram David was filming another H &M commercial with Kevin Hart somewhere in California. Well, maybe he did end up calculating the time difference correctly, since it was dinner time in Portugal and he had sent the message hours ago. Maybe Iker was, actually, mostly at fault. Still, Iker wasn’t expecting David’s reply to come in the form of a phone call.

 

“I texted you.”

 

 _“Fine, alright.”_ David chuckled. _“You win. What did that mean, by the way?”_

 

“I–” Iker cut himself off with a frown, taking his cellphone from the crook of his shoulder and opting to hold it in his hand with a quiet huff. He stirred the chicken in his pan a bit more forcefully that he needed to buy himself sometime to think. “I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you.”

 

There was a short pause on the other end, presumably while David tried to piece Iker’s two unrelated statements together or while David tried to think of an adequate response.

 

 _“Well,”_ David began, the blatant disbelief in his tone taking Iker by surprise.  The answer came in a form that Iker hadn't been expecting: David had been stunned into silence. _“Do you think it’ll be okay if I guess_?” His amazement had melted into amusement, at the end of his question, and Iker could almost picture David’s content smile.

 

“My agent–”

 

 _“_ – _Doesn’t have to know about this. Don’t worry, Iker. I know how these phone calls work, I won’t say anything incriminating that could possibly void the contract, like offer you a private jet to take you back to Spain whenever you want, okay?”_

 

“I think you just did.”

 

  _“Iker,”_ David chastised his exasperation apparent, though his tone could almost be classified as a whine. _“We’re friends, aren’t we?”_

 

“Right now, yes.”

 

 _“So far, yes. Great.”_ David laughed. _“You sure do know how to lower a bloke’s self-esteem. But, to answer your question: Yes. It is a serious offer. You’d be a great addition to anyone’s team.”_

 

“You sure do know how to raise a _bloke’s_ self-esteem,” Iker echoed, though it didn’t come out as teasing as he had hoped. He poked forlornly at the food in his pan before reaching down to lower the temperature of the burner. His throat was tight again. It always was when he thought about the future. Well, it always seemed to happen when he thought about a possible future with David – though this isn’t what his former self would have hoped.

 

“How is, uh,” Iker cleared his throat, “how is the MLS?”

 

 _“Well, like I’m sure you’ve heard from Ricky or Villa, it’s really competitive. A lot more competitive than people give it credit for, honestly, since teams can’t get relegated.”_ Iker called both of them the day after he started seriously reviewing his offers. They both told him the same thing. _“Oh, but you’ll love it, Iker. I had such a great time in L.A. A phenomenal time, really. I promise. The fans are amazing. So passionate. You’ll love them.”_

 

“Yeah?” It sounded like every other league. Well, almost. David didn’t easily throw out his praises.

 

 _“They’ll love you, Iker,”_ There was a short pause, _“like I love you.”_

They sat in silence for a few moments. The “don’t” was on the tip of Iker’s tongue, but he decided against it, torn. It’s bittersweet, hearing that from him. as much as Iker hated to admit. It was- It was painful. What was he supposed to say to that? What was he supposed to say to David after he tossed the sentiment so casually, but so confidently? What did David want him to say? What did he expect? Not commenting was the best non-answer he could give. The chicken sizzled and browned in the pan, awkwardly filling up the silence that David’s throw away comment had left. It’s not like Iker could read David well over satellite, but, still, what did he expect?

David always carelessly broke Iker’s heart without noticing.

“I’ll think about it.”

_“That’s all I can ask from you, Iker. Thank you.”_

*

Though, it’s not like Iker had a very good sense of self-preservation either.

 

They could have let their friendship fizzle out to texts or phone calls reserved to special occasions, like with any long distance association, but he and David always broke unspoken rules. This phone call was only another example in a long string of occasions where they’d slip and show each other they cared beyond some of the simple cordial sentiment.

 

Iker usually sent David pictures of food that reminded him of that one time David got them lost in London, of all places, when Real played against Arsenal. David always gets him back, either sending him pictures of food that isn’t as good – though sometimes it’s better, if it’s one of those days when David is feeling particularly playful – as the ones from places Iker took him to in Madrid. (Iker was also the one that got them lost in Rome when they played Roma – David doesn’t let Iker forget it, either.)

 

It’s not that frequent, sometimes months pass before an important birthday or holiday comes up when they’re forced to communicated with each other, but it’s enough.

 

_[David]  
(07:26): I thought fresa meant-_

 

“Ey, Iker. What’cha smilin’ about?”

 

 _“Joder, Tecatito.”_ Iker exclaimed, flustered. He fumbled with his phone trying to put it away before any one of the Mexican trio got the courage to look over his shoulder and read what was on the screen. “Warn a guy, next time. Would you?”

 

“Sure, Iker,” Came Layún’s flippant reply while he tried to squeeze next to Iker on the small hotel lobby loveseat. “Who’re you texting, though?”

 

Iker glared at Herrera, who had taken a seat on Iker’s armrest rather than the empty seat across from him. Tecatito wasn’t any better; he almost knocked over a potted plant when he sat down on the small coffee table in front of them. “It was just David,” he gritted out, turning to Layún with a pointed look. They had no business crowding around him while they waited for the team bus.

 

“Dey-vihd?” Tecatito echoed, confused.

 

“Beckham.”

 

“You still talk to David Beckham?” Herrera spoke up.

 

Layún punched Iker’s arm. “Wow, _el viejito_ coming through with the connections.”

 

“ _Ya, basta_. He’s asking me to translate something.” David used that excuse to text him sometimes, too; it wasn’t like Iker was lying.

 

The guys shared a look before: _“Eh, güey, preguntale si ve la Liga Mexicana.”_

 

_“No one cares about that league.”_

 

_“A nadie le importa la MLS!”_

                                     

They keep on asking to talk to David and ask his opinions on various things, going as far as trying to wrestle Iker’s phone away from him, even though he had put it in his pocket. “Leave me alone. I hope América loses to Cruz Azul”

 

Cue a chorus of laughter and one “ _Imposible, güey.”_

*

 

_“Hey you’re cooking dinner right now, yeah? What’re you making? I’m kinda hungry right now and I need ideas.”_

“Don’t you want to tell me more about the MLS?”

_“I’ll tell you more when you call me back and ask me about the team.”_

“David.”

_“Just jokin’, Iker. Well, wait. Do you want me to tell you who we have in mind for the manager?”_

“ _David_.”

*

 

 

Saying goodbye to the team was tougher than Iker expected. It was impossible not to get attached in a career like his, no matter how many transfer windows he went through. The words were simple enough: “I’m not coming back in January.”

 

But they’re were difficult to say with the lump that built up in his throat.

 

_“¡No me digas que te vas a Cruz Azul!”_

_“Hey, give me one of your new jerseys!”_

_“Wh- Buy one yourself!”_

_“Are you kidding? They’re so expensive”_

At least social media was a great way to stay connected.

_“Oi, when is it going to be official so I can write something on Insta?”_

 

 

*

 

 

“You’ve thought this through, right?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“No need for me to remind you of the drawbacks of each contract, right?”

 

“I’ve thought everything through.” Iker had basically memorized the fine print of each contract, at this point.

 

There wasn’t that much to consider. Each European team had offered him lucrative contracts with Porto’s having the added benefit of being comfortable – routine, even. The MLS offered similar assets, but came with different pressures. It was one thing to spiral out of European leagues, following a slow path to retirement that some could interpret as an embarrassing fall from grace. Chasing money to other overseas leagues, “retirement leagues,” wasn’t so much falling from grace as crashing down from it. There was no way to please the public, even when Iker thought of himself. He only had to think of himself. Which was better: the possibility of playing Pan-European tournaments or accepting the risk of becoming a league’s first major foreign goalkeeper signing? Tim Howard did help in that respect after he joined the Colorado Rapids as one of their designated players, but that was different. It was Tim Howard, the nation’s honorary Secretary of Defense. An American Icon.

 

Iker was not.

 

He wasn’t even so much a Spanish icon anymore, either, as he was a former star that had inelegantly fallen out of favor with his old club, his old national team coach, and wasn’t even considered by the new coach. It was- Well, it was a lot to bare, honestly. And, due the fact that his and Howard’s given trajectories in their career were so dissimilar meant that Iker would face a whole slew of challenges in the MLS beyond living up to the title of Miami’s first DP signing. At least Villa, who had almost as much silverware as Iker, seemed to be thriving in the league. He had almost earned himself a return to the national team – if Aduriz could be recalled at the age of thirty-five, Villa could return too.

 

“And, you’re sure about this?”

 

“One-hundred percent.”

 

 

*

 

 

 _Hola, nene. It’s a_ – _It’s_ – _[clears throat] Sergio, it’s Iker. I know you’re probably at practice [long pause] but I felt like calling you would be the best way to let you know. [nervous laughter] Hopefully, you’ll listen to this voicemail. [a barely audible ‘I should just hang up…call back later’] I mean- you remember your passcode, right? [another long pause followed by a deep sigh] I’m leaving Porto. I’m going to--- [BEEP]_

 

 

*

 

 

_OPO to LIS – 55m [TAP Portugal]_

_LIS to MIA – 9h 30m [TAP Portugal]_

 

 

*

“Mr. Casillas, you have no idea how glad we are to have you on our team. Honestly, truly grateful. We’re very excited, too. I’m sure you and Mr. Scholes can take the team to great heights.”

 

_“–And the rest of our signings, too.”_

“Yes. And the rest of the team.”

 

Iker nodded along, flashing the team’s owners what he hoped was a polite smile. David and his agent couldn’t make it to this meeting, apparently negotiating another commercial deal, with a cellphone company this time, if Iker remembered David’s apologies correctly. Another blessing in disguise, he wasn’t sure he could manage David beaming at him while he tried to discuss business.

 

“Paul Scholes will be a great manager. It is a…it is an honor to have a chance to play under him and to play with this team. Thank you for signing me.”

 

 _“Es un privilegio para nosotros, Señor Casillas. Gracias por elegir a nuestro equipo.”_ Claure supplied, offering Iker a friendly smile.

 

“Yes,” Leiweke added with a grateful smile similar to Claure’s. “I hope you don’t mind that all the ceremonial stuff is going to happen in next week’s press event. We still have a few odds and ends to sort out, y’know, making sure the social media accounts are up and running et cetera.”

 

“This should give you time to send over the last of your stuff from Portugal and even from Madrid. We’re sorry to make you fly back and forth so much, but we assumed you wouldn’t want to stay in a hotel for a week.”

 

 

*

 

 

 _[David]_  
_(16:43): I’m coming back the day after tomorrow._  
_(16:43): You’re more than welcome to stay at my house._

_[Iker]_  
_(16:45): seriously?_

_[David]_  
_(16:46): I can unlock the gate for you using my phone._  
_(16:46): I have an extra key under one of the rocks on the pathway._  
_(16:47): The third from the door._

_[Iker]_  
_(16:47): David that’s really dangerous_

_[David]_  
_(16:48): I left it because I knew you’d be in Miami._

_[Iker]_  
_(16:53): third from the door_

_[David]_  
_(16:54): Third from the door and eighth from the gate._  
_(16:54): Help yourself to any of the food in the house._  
_(16:55): Or you can call and have something delivered._  
_(16:56): If you want._  
_(16:56): Info’s on the fridge._

_[Iker]_  
_(16:57): D_  
_(16:57): vaid_  
_(16:57): im not eating pie and mash._

_[David]_  
_(16:58): K_  
_(16:58): ier_  
_(16:58): Taste it._  
_(16:59): :*_

 

 

*

 

 

“Honey, I’m home!” David called out, setting his duffle bag down by the door after closing it. “Iker?”

 

_“In the kitchen!”_

“I see you’ve made yourself right at home.” David teased, walking over to the stove to greet Iker with a kiss on the cheek. It was a bit awkward with Iker giving the pasta he was cooking a final stir, but they made it work. It didn’t really matter, in the end neither of them could miss each other’s identical, bright smiles.

 

“Yeah, finally. I kept on getting lost,” Iker grumbled, shooing David away from him. “Move. I have to take out something from the oven.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“Um,” Iker mused, frowning at the slightly past-golden brown bread in the oven. “Get plates, and, uh, forks?”

 

“And drinks? Wait– you got lost?”

 

“Good idea,” Iker replied absentmindedly, closing the oven door with a scowl. He’d deal with those later. He looked over at David, fully facing him for the first time at night. “What are you wearing?”

 

“Don’t you like my pink joggers?”

 

“You should change your clothes, too.”

 

 

*

 

 

Press conferences were mostly second nature to Iker at this point.

 

Mostly.

 

It wasn’t every day that Iker took part in a press conference that marked the creation of a club, badge reveal and all. It was a bit overwhelming, to be honest. It required all of his focus to school his expression into a cool, neutral look and not fidget with sleeves.

 

Basically all of football’s important media outlets were here. Zamorano was around, somewhere, as part of the Univison team. Not to mention the fact that there were more English outlets present due to the team’s inherent connections with Manchester United. Apparently, the Sky Sports team was being particularly ravenous, still bitter that they didn’t get an adequate interview with the newly crowned manager – Scholes words, not Iker’s. (Which could have been influenced by the fact that he was trying to avoid a particularly incensed Gary Neville, who, rumor had it, was still mad at the fact that Scholes told Phil Neville he was going to Miami first rather than him. Then again, David wasn’t a peculiarly reliable source when it came to feuds within his friend group either.)

 

Still, every word spoken was background noise, at this point, muffled and drowned out by the slight ringing in Iker’s ears as well as his own thoughts. The lighting in the room was dim due to the fact that the building was running on electrical generators. Unfortunately, an especially violent and unusual winter thunderstorm had knocked out a good part of the electricity for this part of the town However, none of the local volunteers had blinked an eye at this occurrence, sporting eerie calm smiles and not even flinching when thunderclaps shook the conference room. _This happens all the time_ , they said. _We’re used to it._ The dim lighting increased the glare caused by the flashing cameras in the audience, shifting the atmosphere from a normal press conference into an impersonal spectacle. Iker couldn’t spot any familiar faces in the audience which made him feel oddly on display.

 

A sudden wave of applause cut through Iker’s thoughts and he raised his hands to applaud just in time to see David make his way across the stage to stand in front of the podium. They had moved a covered board closer to him, presumably housing the team’s crest. The main colors had been revealed since the beginning of the conference in the shape of the commemorative scarves that every person on the stage wore. All that was left was their crest and possible mascot.

 

“Now, know you’re not here to listen to me talk” David began after the applause had died down prompting a round of laughter. “As you know, this project, no, this team means a lot to me. I can’t even express what seeing this dream become a reality feels like.” He took a deep breath, facing the crowd with a large smile before continuing. “We’re eternally grateful towards Miami for taking us in. We want the team to reflect the best of the city and…”

 

It was a bit difficult for Iker to focus on what was being said when he that his turn to stand up at the podium approached. But, he was allowed to tune to tune David’s speech out. David practiced the speech on him beforehand – _consider it you paying me_ _rent_ , he said – and Iker had heard most of it before when he first called David to let him know he was transferring. Their main sponsors were charities surrounding conservation efforts around southern Florida and the owners wanted to play up that connection by choosing the Florida Panther as their mascot. It was a sleek and simple design design, following the example of Torino’s redesign. The team’s badge consisted solely of a silhouette of a panther poised to strike. Iker found himself drawn to it, gaze flicking back from the speaker to the board next to them. Even beyond the glare and the awkward angle which it was facing him, Iker could already tell that this fledgling club had carved out a place in his heart, cat and all.

 

“Now, I’m here to present…” Fuller trailed off after finishing his talk about the club’s stadium plans; they were going to share a stadium with the Marlins while their stadium finished building in Overtown. It wasn’t ideal, but their stadium was due to finish construction in the following season. He frowned at the at the venue’s flickering lights, playing off his noticeable flinch after an especially loud thunderclap. “Well, I _hope_ to present our first signing: Iker Casillas!”

 

Iker stood up and unbuttoned his suit jacket, flashing the audience a camera-ready smile as he walked over to shake Fuller’s hand. It was just like any other event he took part of, but, like in any other event, he was still a bit jittery.

 

“Thank you, Simon.” Iker turned and flashed Fuller another smile. “I hope I finish soon. It sounds like a hurricane out there,” Iker chuckled at his own poor attempt to break the ice, steeling himself against the flashing lights of the camera. “Now, what can I say about the _Miami Odyssey_ …”

 

 

*

 

 

**_“QUIERO TRUINFAR AQUÍ”  
IKER CASILLAS LLEGA A LA MLS CON BUENAS SENSACIONES_ **

****

**_“I CAN’T WAIT TO PLAY HERE”  
_** **_IKER CASILLAS EXPECTS TO WIN BIG IN THE MLS_ **

 

 

*

 

 

_Iker Casillas is trending_

 

 

> **@miguel_layun:** La MLS no sabe lo que le espera _{SEE_NO_EVIL.emoji}_ _{CRYING_WITH_LAUGHTER.emoji}_ ¡Disfrútala viejo! ¡Buena suerte! **@CasillasWorld** #aromperla
> 
> **@gianluigibuffon:** **@CasillasWorld** Quando hai intenzione di darmi tua nuova maglia?
> 
> **@davidvilla:** ¿Cuantos goles creéis que le puedo marcar a **@CasillasWorld**? // How many goals do you think I can score against #IkerCasillas? [DAVID_VILLA_GOAL_BARCA_VS_MADRID_5_-_0.jpg]
> 
> **@TimHowardGK:** Can’t wait to face you **@CasillasWorld**! Welcome to the MLS! #Rapids96 #MileHighBoys #Welcome
> 
> **@Pirlo_official:** Welcome! _{WAVING_HAND.emoji}_ **@CasillasWorld**
> 
> **@raulgonzalez:** Buena suerte en tu nueva aventura **@CasillasWorld**! Espero verte cuando vengas a Nueva York. _{ORANGE.emoji} {STATUE_OF_LIBERTY.emoji}_ [RAUL_CASILLAS_HUG.jpg] 
> 
> **@MiamiOdyssey: @CasillasWorld** Welcome Capi!!! // ¡¡¡Bienvenidos, Capi!!! { _GOAT.emoji} {GOAT.emoji} {GOAT.emoji}_ [IKER_CASILLAS_HOLDING_UP_JERSEY_MIAMI_ODYSSEY.jpg]

 

 

*

 

 

“I know this neighborhood isn’t like mine, but-”

 

“It’s okay, David,” Iker glanced over at David with a small smile before turning back to look out around the neighborhood. “I’m okay with small. Thanks for driving me here, by the way.”

 

“Don’t mention it. It, uh, this could be a temporary thing. I heard Billy Joel was selling his house, y’know.”

 

Iker snorted, “You told me it was over an hour away.”

 

“I mean,” David chuckled, “Don’t you think Shakira and Pique would give you a ‘friends and family discount?’ They’re selling their place, too.”

 

“Hialeah’s nice, David.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you like it. It’s mostly furnished,” David gestured towards the house before raking his fingers through his hair. “It’s, uh, supposed to be a quiet neighborhood. You got your keys?”

 

“Yep,” Iker nodded, patting his jean pocket. “You can come in,” he chuckled, shaking his head at an awkward, uncomfortable-looking David Beckham that was rocking on his heels. “It’s the least I could do. You let me stay at your house for the week.”

 

 

*

 

 

**_SOLO EN UNIVISION DEPORTES:_ **

**_La entrevista exclusiva de Iker Casillas con Hristo Stoichkov y Jorge Perez-Navarro._ **

**_Viernes 7/6c_ **

 

January transitioned into February faster than Iker imagined. March would be behind the corner before he knew it, but he didn’t want to focus on that right now. He couldn’t think about that now. He had an interview to focus on that was nerve-wracking enough. Iker felt too big for his skin, sitting across from Stoichkov. This was Stoichkov, a legend in his own right, unapologetic and outspoken. Iker hadn’t been keeping up with the press – he usually never did – but, now, he couldn’t help but obsess over what Stoichkov thought of him. He was probably just another misguided kit to him, after all. The _San_ had fallen off his name long ago, and, maybe it truly never belonged.

 

It was easy to feel old now, all of the past month seemed to be focused on him reminiscing over the perceived remnants of his career. He didn’t feel old, but the way that others talked about his accomplishments made it seemed like he was.

 

 

*

 

 

_“Do you ever get used to it?”_

_“Mate, everyone said that my career was supposedly ‘doomed’ when I left United. I don’t think I’m the right person to ask about this.”_

_“But I asked you.”_

_“It’ll always be annoyin’. It doesn’t mean your experiences are worth shit. People feel betrayed, that’s all. You changing means they’re getting old, too.”_

_“So, it still hurts.”_

_“Iker, I’ve been wanting to play ever since I retired. It’s different. Enjoy this.”_

_“Dav-”_

_“Iker, have faith in yourself. Eres una legenda. A living legend, really. You’ve got this.”_

_“You really need to work on your accent before you do another Spanish commercial.”_

 

 

*

 

“So, Iker how’s life in the States treating you?”

 

“Good,” Iker grinned, happy that the interview started with a simple enough question. It could have been considered a trick question, but Jorge Perez-Navarro seemed like a nice enough guy. He managed to catch a few games with his commentary and he seemed like a genuine person, at least his commentating didn’t lull him to sleep like some of the people at NBC Sports did. (Then again, watching European football in the early morning was a big change and there was no way in hell he was going to stay up for a 7am Man United game when David would just give him the play by play commentary afterwards, anyways.) It was always easier to do interviews with non-journalists too, even though they weren’t as smooth. Iker preferred the unpolished atmosphere as opposed to one where he knew every one of his answers would be thoroughly dissected and analyzed; even though he had a feeling Stoichkov would do just that. Iker saw how he had treated Figo the last time he was on. “I am very happy to be here,” Iker continued. “Especially the weather. I like wearing shorts in the winter.”

 

“Ah, but what about the hurricanes in the summer?”

 

“I’ll enjoy wearing shorts while I can. Then I’ll worry about buying rain boots.”

 

“ _A Storm Is Coming_ , no?” Stoichkov quoted the team’s latest ad campaign with a sharp smirk.

 

It made Iker laugh as he thought back to the memories on the set and the video that their publicist had put on social media. It was the first time that a large amount of the team got together because they decided the same photo-op to take the team’s official pictures with their uniform. _Convenience_ , was the only explanation given. It was then when Iker finally properly met with the team’s second DP signing, Joselu, a 32-year-old center back from Argentina. They ended up bonding over mate. Well, bickering about Iker’s preference for Cola-Cao, but it was nice. At least they managed to avoid the nonsense that the younger strikers were up to. Scholes had turned the brightest shade of red when a ‘stray football’ had broken one of the cameras. David later told Iker that Scholes wasn’t going to do any more press events from “ever again” and it didn’t sound much like an exaggeration.

 

Stoichkov’s next question cut through his thoughts, “Are you worried about how hurricane season is going to affect your schedule?”

 

“Like everything,” Iker shrugged, “If we have to play more away games during that period then we will, but Orlando’s been handling it pretty well so far.”

 

“Speaking of Orlando, do you talk to Kaká a lot?”

 

Iker smiled, shifting in his seat to avoid running his fingers through his hair. Hopefully talking about Orlando wouldn’t result in the PR staff giving him a lecture. He wasn’t entirely sure how much people wanted to hear him talk about his rivals, the rules were different here and it had him on edge. “We always have. In fact, he’s already invited me to Disney World.”

 

Perez-Navarro spluttered, “You’ve never gone?”

 

“Only Paris.”

 

 “Well,” he laughed. “You do have a lot a friends around here. I mean, did David Beckham have a lot with you coming to Miami?”

 

 _He certainly was a factor,_ Iker thought, remembering their phone call. “David’s always talking about how he enjoyed his time in the MLS. Everyone that I’ve talked to about the league enjoys it.”

 

“Like David Villa and Kaká.”

 

Iker’s smile twitched as he switched his gaze to Stoichkov, “People like them, yes.”

 

“They’re both captains of expansion teams, like yours.” Iker nodded in agreement to Perez-Navarro’s statement. “What makes you think there can be a successful MLS franchise in Miami when the MLS has already tried once before?”

 

“I have a lot of faith in the club and city. The MLS is a growing franchise. It’s different from when the Fusion where created.”

 

“The Beckham Effect,” Stoichkov interjected.

 

Iker liked his lips before continuing to try to earn some more time to think. This was one of the questions he had been waiting for – and dreading. “People are paying more attention to the league and they are realizing the potential that it has. I mean, look at all of the American players that are playing in Europe now and even before that. Tim Howard was really successful in England and so was Clint Dempsey. I’ve heard about how competitive it is here in the MLS and how different it is. I’m very excited and extremely grateful that I can be a part of this team – and the league’s – growth.”

 

“Speaking of the Beckham effect, you’re working under another well-known friend of Beckham’s, Paul Scholes. How is that? Have you gotten to talk to him?”

 

“Well, he’s a genius on the field and off,” Iker began, thinking back to how Xavi used to praise the former midfielder when they managed to get on the subject of the Premier League. “Training is set to start soon and I can’t wait.” Even if their initial meeting at a trendy Italian restaurant downtown wasn’t the smoothest of briefings, Iker still felt Scholes’ drive to succeed in the league. If anything, his respect for the man had only increased; not that Iker thought it would have been possible.

 

 _“Ahora,”_ Perez-Navarro cleared his throat, fixing Iker with a ‘serious’ look, brows furrowed. “ _Una pregunta seria_ : Are you going to be the next Conejo Perez?” 

 

The question took Iker by surprise, but he took in stride, lips twitching as he fought back a smile. “Well, there’s only one of him,” Iker chuckled, but then added. “Honestly, I really admire him and his work ethic. I hope to be like him.”

 

Perez-Navarro nodded, lips curled up into a satisfied smile. If Iker knew better, he would have caught the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” Perez-Navarro grinned, raising his arms. “Forget Conejo, are you going to be the next Jorge Campos?”

 

This made everyone laugh, including some of the camera crew.

 

“That’s true. That’s the real question here.” Stoichkov chuckled.

 

“I mean, in Europe all they look for now is a goalkeeper that can play with his feet. Why not get one that can be a striker while they’re at it?”

 

“Someone who can score goals as well as stop them,” Iker added, grinning.

 

“ _Exactly!”_ Perez-Navarro exclaimed with a snap of his fingers, “You think you’re going to score your first goal here in MLS?”

 

“I mean…” Iker mused, pursing his lips. _“Vamos a ver lo que me depara la vida,”_ prompting another round of chuckles in the newsroom.

 

“Hah! So you’re not saying ‘no?’” Perez-Navarro asked, clasping his hands together in exaggerated interest.

 

Iker raised his hands and shrugged with a smile. “I’ll do whatever the coach wants me to do.”

 

“Well, are you going to wear kits like Campos, at least?”

 

Perez-Navarro looked over at Stoichkov, snickering, _“Tenemos que ver lo que le depara la vida.”_

 

 

*

 

 

 **IkerCasillas** _posted a photo:_ Primer día con el gafete de Capitán para el #MiamiOdyssey #alcienporcien

 

 **cescf4bregas** and **3gerardpique** liked **IkerCasillas** ’s photo.

 **IkerCasillas** liked **davidbeckham** ’s comment: Looking good! _{THUMBS_UP.emoji} {HEART_EYES.emoji}_

 **IkerCasillas** and **2 others** liked **miguel_layun** ’s comment: oye jorge campos dedícame un gol jajaja

 **IkerCasillas** liked **marcelotwelve** ’s comment: ¡¡Buena suerte Capi!! _{PRAYING_HANDS.emoji}_

 **IkerCasillas** liked **sr4oficial** ’s comment: Mucha suerte! _{KISSY_FACE.emoji}_

 

 

*

 

 

_Interviewer: …with Fox Sports and I’m here at Marlins Park bringing you a duel between the MLS’ two newest expansion teams: Miami Odyssey’s home opener against LAFC. We’re hoping to catch up with the manager and a few players after the game, but, right now, I’m joined by a former MLS superstar and part-owner of the Miami Odyssey, David Beckham._

_Beckham: Hello._

 

_Interviewer: So, David. How does it feel to have your team go up against what could be considered one of your personal rivals, LAFC, in their first game?_

_Beckham: Well, I’m very excited. It’s our first game, ever, and it’s a home opener. I’ve stopped by a few practice sessions and I have really high hopes. It’s going to be a great game._

_Interviewer: Did you give them pointers about how to take free kicks?_

_Beckham: [laughs] Scholesy would’ve kicked me off the field if I did, honestly._

_Interviewer: And I see that you’ve got a lot of team spirit with your scarf and jersey combo. May I ask whose number’s on it?_

_Beckham: [smirks] Mine._

_Interviewer: [nods, mildly surprised] Ooh, very nice. One last question and then I’ll let you go find your seat. [chuckles] Now, it’s obvious who you’re rooting for today, but whose jersey will you be wearing when the Odyssey takes on a certain other LA team?_

_Beckham: Let’s focus on today’s game, yeah?_

 

 

*

 

 

Iker looked down at his jersey with an uneasy frown. It was nice, much more elaborate than most of the other kits he’d worn in his career. It made sense, he guessed. He was the first major signing of the team and had the responsibility to sell jerseys. Fluorescent green or orange didn’t usually fare well in the market, hopefully this charcoal jersey did. Still, Iker didn’t appreciate David’s anecdote about the last time a franchised tried to make a kit that would look good with jeans, the famed “invisible kit.” Maybe that was the whole point, if you couldn’t see the goalkeeper, then you’d kick right at him.

 

Iker sighed, tracing one of the bright blue streaks on his sleeve before leaning over and grabbing his captain’s armband.

 

“Ready, jefe?” Joselu asked, sitting down on Iker’s other side. He had just taken the aux cord from their two bickering left wing players, Easton and Reyes, and put on his own music. Boleros were better than the music than the other two were playing, at least they could listen to songs in their entirety instead of forced remixes with incomplete songs.

 

“Almost,” Iker’s grin quickly faded when he took in his defender’s state of undress. He only had one sock on. “What about you?”

 

“I’ll be ready by the time you give your big speech.” Joselu replied flippantly.

 

“Don’t remind me.”

 

“You’ve given hundreds of team talks. You did it during the preseason too.”

 

“This is different. Allow me to overreact, Joselu.”

 

“It’s my job to help you stay calm, jefe.”

 

 

*

 

 

The field was smaller than Iker was used to. He could also see the pitcher’s mound out of the corner of his eye.

 

He bent down to pull up his socks then checked his gloves before jumping up to tap the crossbar.

 

There was a game to play.

 

 

*

 

 

_“A spectacular pass from Bogović to Oribe.”_

_“Oribe to shoot –_

_Right off the crossbar!”_

_“– Jaime Reyes with the header in!”_

_“Reyes with Miami Odyssey’s historic goal! The first for the club.”_

*

****

**FULL TIME**

Miami Odyssey VS Los Angeles FC

Marlins Park

1 : 1

_Reyes 22’_

_Joselu (og.) 54’_

*

 

 

Iker wiped some of the sweat off his brow, reaching over to ruffle Oribe’s hair, ignoring the other man’s protest. Not like they mattered, most the gel in his hair was gone after the game, anyways. Laughing, he turned to the camera in front of him, shifting his gaze to the journalist.

 

“How did you enjoy your first game here, Iker?”

 

“It was great.” Iker looked up at the crowd with a wide smile, brightening as he heard those closest to the pitch start to cheer. “The atmosphere was good; the fans were great. I felt right at home.”

 

“Are you upset that you couldn’t keep a clean sheet?”

 

“Eh, always, but these things happen.” He blinked away more sweat, mentally cursing Miami’s humidity. “Pero, eh, we played a great game and created a lot of chances. Jaime scored a good goal. Our defense was strong. We will only get better.”

*

 

 

_Interviewer: What are your thoughts about the game?_

_Scholes: It was a solid performance. The team played well and maintained pressure, which didn’t allow L.A. a lot of chances to score. The own goal was unfortunate, but I’m happy with the way the team looked. There are still some places where we need to improve, but I’m happy with the team’s overall performance._

 

 

*

 

 

Iker squinted at his grocery list while he tried to make out what he had written in his own messy scrawl. Either eggs or yogurt, but it could have been anything. “Maybe I should use my phone, next time,” he grumbled to himself with a scowl, but reminded himself to check if any of the aisles had pens. His list was mostly illegible because of his own handwriting but because of the pen he got from a press event, bright blue and smooth, but it had bled through clear to the other side of the paper.

 

With a shake of his head he stuffed the list into his front pocket as he made his way down the next aisle, flinching at his shopping cart’s squeaky wheel. It was Iker’s first time at Publix and it was a lot quieter than the Wal-Mart that he was used to going to. At first, Iker was overwhelmed by Wal-Mart, especially since he stumbled upon a _supercenter_. He didn’t want to trust the store where you could buy clothes, potted plants, get a haircut, and get your vision checked all in the same day. And buy groceries of course. It was overwhelming. Though he forced himself to go, it was the only grocery store he could get to without the use of GPS.

 

Still, Publix brand food managed to make its way into Iker’s house via David. “I like their bread a lot better,” David had said and left it at that. Sadly, Iker only found out that David bought food from a different supermarket when he was looking for a plastic bag to use for his bathroom’s trashcan. Seeing the brown plastic bag gave him a fright.

 

David laughed this off the next time he was at Iker’s house. “I’ll buy you a reusable bag, next time.”

 

Iker decided to get both eggs and yogurt before making his way to the cashiers. He’d get David to come shopping with him next time. The store was small and the workers were friendly, but Iker felt extremely self-conscious wandering around looking for items. One of the employees had been arranging soup cans in one of the aisles and Iker had passed him four times, at least, while he looked for the rice. He ended up asking the woman at the deli counter for directions, but not before he got some pastrami.

 

“Hello. How are you?”

 

“Good, thank you,” Iker gave the cashier a small smile before turning to smile at the bagger. They didn’t have baggers at Wal-Mart.

 

“Uh, sir? Is paper okay? We’re out of plastic bags.”

 

“Y-yes, that’s fine,” Iker stammered, confused.

 

Publix wasn’t anything like Wal-Mart.

 

“Your total is $42.59. Will you be paying with debit or credit?”

 

“Uh, debit, please,” Iker mumbled, letting out a small sigh of relief when he saw that there was no chip reader. At least he was safe from that bit of embarrassment, though he still gave his cart a weary glance where the bagger had neatly lined up three paper bags. They held a lot of stuff.

 

Muttering a quiet thank you to the cashier, Iker nearly ran into the bagger who was handling his cart.

 

“Would you like me to take your cart to your car, sir?”

 

“Erm, sure. Thank you.”

 

Publix wasn’t anything like Wal-Mart at all.

 

 

*

 

 

“ _Puta madre_ ,” Iker cursed after dropping his keys. He had already given up and left one of the paper bags in his car before trekking to the door. He didn’t like having to walk back for one beg, but, considering the fact he could barely balance the two in his hands, he had no other choice.

 

He placed both bags on the ground before picking up the keys and opening the door. The eggs and the produce were in the other bag so he would have no problem throwing them inside.

 

Except the television was on.

 

_“Er, hello?”_

 

“Iker you’re hom– Wait, let me help you with those.”

 

“David,” Iker let out a startled laugh, “did you move in with me without me noticing?”

 

“Iker, I was here before you left.”

 

“Yeah, but—” _I thought you would have left by now_. Iker cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I’ll go get the bag I left in the car.”

 

“Okay,” David grinned, “I’ll start putting this stuff away.”

 

David did spend a lot of time at his house, but it was— Well, it was nice to have someone to come home to after games or greet after practice was over. It wasn’t intrusive, per se. It was comfortable. Besides, Iker had a suitcase-worth of clothes in one of David’s guest rooms.

 

Miami was a place. It was easy to get lonely. At least they had each other.

 

(Who else was he going to watch Real Madrid games with?)

 

(Or binge watch _Yo soy Betty, La Fea_.)

 

 

*

 

 

_(10:21) pick me up after English lessons? they’re almost done_

 

“Capi, quit texting.”

 

“I’m allowed to text, Tomas.”

 

_“Yeah, Tom.”_

 

“Tais-toi, Aleks.”

 

“ _Bogović_ , _Roche_ , focus” Iker chastised before turning back to their tutor with a meek grin. “Sorry,” Iker scratched his neck, sheepishly ducking his head at their tutor’s annoyed smile. She didn’t deserve this, an FIU grad student had more important thing on her plate than babysitting football players.

 

She shrugged, pushing back her glasses from where they slid down her nose; she was wearing her teal glasses today. “It’s my fault, Iker. I thought you would be able to help.”

 

“I don’t mean to be a distraction.”

 

She shrugged again, clicking her gum before continuing with her lesson.

 

 _(10:24): i hope youre on your way_  
_(10:24): she told me you had a rubbish accent by the way_  
_(10:25): well not in those exact words_  
_(10:25): but she did call you a bad influence  
_ _(10:27): for my English_

_[David]_  
_(10:32): I’m outside._  
_(10:33): She’s right, by the way.  
_ _(10:33): I’m very bad._

_[Iker]  
_ _(10:34): seriously_

 

 

*

 

 

**2 nd half: 47:09**

Toronto FC VS Miami Odyssey

Exhibition Place

_*_

 

 

 _Pablo Ramírez:_ _“¡La quiero ver otra vez! ¡La quiero ver otra vez!”_

_(El Profe) Jesús Bracamontes: “Es que— No lo entiendo. Iba a la pelota y—”_

 

*

 

 

_Alexi Lalas: “Is that— That’s a red card?”_

_Rob Stone: “Don’t look now, Alexi, but Scholes is absolutely fuming at the touchline.”_

*

 

 

Iker saw a player dressed in red cut through his defense and he jumped into action to stop the unwelcome intrusion by sliding forward to get the ball. There was an exaggerated yell somewhere beside him, but he got the ball. He didn’t even touch whoever was writhing beside him.

 

 As expected, when he stood up there was a lot more yelling than before he went down to the ground. A lot more boos from the crowd, too.

 

What Iker didn’t expect as the player to surge forward and try to pry the ball from his hand.

 

_“What the fuck—”_

_“Don’t give me that, that was a dirty tackle and you fucking know it.”_

_“I got the fucking ball, what the hell are you talk-”_

A whistle cut through Bradley’s reply. Their heads snapped towards the referee who was doing his best to march towards the bickering players while ignoring the other’s that flocked him.

 

It was a dive.

 

There was no other explanation.

 

_“You and you. Come here. The rest of you, leave.”_

 

_“But ref—”_

_“Ref—”_

_“Out. You two.”_

A bright flash of yellow streaked in front of them as the referee held a yellow card high in the air for the whole stadium to see.

 

“That’s for fighting,” he nodded towards Bradley.

 

“As for you.”

 

Iker held his breath knowing he was just as guilty as fighting as Bradley. He would need to watch his movements after the yellow and this was a very open game.

 

Except, Iker didn’t get a yellow card.

 

“Leave the field.”

 

 

*

 

 

A red card.

 

A fucking undeserved red card.

 

Everything was red in the stadium. The card, the crowd, the uniforms. All different dizzying shades of red. Toronto’s red was rosier than the card that the referee held aloft. Even the walls of the tunnel leading to the dressing room were red.

 

The first red card in his club’s history. Fantastic.

 

Iker kicked the door and tossed his gloves against the wall when he got inside.

 

_“Take a shower, Mr. Casillas, you’ll feel better.”_

“Call me Iker, Robbie,” Iker sighed, picking at the tape that covered his wrists.

 

Except, Iker wasn’t mad, he was disappointed.

 

He was disappointed in himself.

 

He let is team down. He let the fans down. He heard the jeers in the stadium and they hurt, but they were nothing.

 

Iker curled his hand into a fist, digging his nails into the tape he had just taken off his other wrist. He felt pinpricks around his eyes, but he fought back the tears that threatened to form.

 

He was frustrated, but he couldn’t cry.

 

He let his team down.

 

He wouldn’t cry.

 

(At least, not while he couldn’t hide his face under the spray of the shower.)

 

 

 

*

 

 

**FULL TIME**

_Stone: “Well, after a very open-ended game with some particularly amazing saves from Iker Casillas, but his controversial expulsion early on in the second-half changed the rhythm of the game into something that Miami never fully recovered from. That resulted in Toronto’s comprehensive win in their 4-1 thrashing of the Miami Odyssey with Miami’s compensation goal coming late, in the 93 rd minute, from a fortunate free kick. _

_Lalas: Both coaches will have a lot to take away from this game, but…”_

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

_Iker, I saw what happened on the telly. Are you alright? Fuck, I hope you’re not asleep. Listen, please call me ba—_

_[BEEP]_

_.: Are you sure you want to delete this message? :._

_[BEEP]_

_.: Message deleted. :._

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

_[PHONE RINGING]_

_Thank fuck you called. I just got off the phone with Scholes and he’s appealing th— Hello? Iker?_

_Iker?_

_David, can we Skype?_

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

“Thanks for taking me out during the game, I’m still going to think about it, though.”

 

“I know,” David shrugged, then slung his arm over Iker’s shoulder, pulling him close to kiss his temple. “You need to buy groceries though. And get rid of your irrational fear of Publix.”

 

Iker avoided David’s gaze with a frown, cheeks burning. “I’m not afraid of a store,” he muttered.

 

“Are you going to let me buy groceries for you from now on, then? What are you going to do when I’m gone to film my Sprint commercial?”

 

Iker rolled his eyes. “Drink Cola-Cao instead of Ovaltine.”

 

“Good point,” David agreed, giving Iker’s shoulders a tight squeeze before walking over to get a shopping cart. Thankfully, David looked over at Iker before he placed their reusable shopping bags in the buggy. “Uh, what are you doing?”

 

Iker had two green baskets slung over each of his arms. “Getting us baskets? Listen the last time I was here they took the cart to my car and I didn’t know if I should have given him money or— _Stop laughing at me David.”_

 

 

*

 

 

Iker stopped Oribe’s soft penalty kick with ease. He was going to ask why the sudden change in rhythm until he noticed that Oribe was turned away from the goal. Everyone had stopped what they were doing. They were focused on their manager. No, they were—

 

“Becks, what are you doing here?”

 

“Are you seriously going to kick me off the field, Scholesy?” Iker didn’t have to be close to know that David was sporting his most charming smile. Scholes seemed unaffected by David’s preferred methods of distraction, though it looked like, by the same token, David had grown immune to Scholes’ glares.

 

“Yes, if you keep on distracting my players.”

 

David’s tranquil mood faltered at the accusation, shoulders slumping slightly “Can’t I watch my team practice?”

 

Scholes sighed loudly. “I guess you can. Just—” he frowned, then waved his hand in a sort of shooing motion.

 

Somehow, David understood him, charm back at full force. “Thanks Scholesy, you’re the best.”

 

Scholes turned his focus back onto the field, but he was quickly taken aback by the star struck squad. _“Hey, now! Focus! Haven’t you lot met the owners before?”_

David hadn’t shown up to any of the players’ signings, Iker learned. The higher-ups didn’t want there to be jealousy among the ranks, even though the only signing David missed due to scheduling conflicts was Iker’s. Well, he wasn’t allowed at Scholes’ either, but that was different. Something about a conflict of interest or another. Still, Iker practically lived with the man, it wasn’t like he could be jealous.

 

“Actually, Becks, now that you’re here— Oi, you five and you three. Yes, all you keepers.” Iker shared a look with Oribe before they started to jog towards the touchline. David was too busy looking at Scholes with interest to notice Iker running up to him. It was better that way, especially since most of the group seemed to be wary of David. “Go with him. You’re on free kick duty.”

 

The group gawked at their coach.

 

At least David had hidden his surprise. Mostly. “Are you serious?”

 

“Make yourself useful while you’re here.” Scholes smirked and, with that, Scholes made his way over to the coolers where most of the defenders were taking a break.

 

“ _No mames_ ,” Oribe muttered. “I wonder what sorta bet Beckham lost.”

 

Iker shook his head before nudging Oribe with his elbow. “Go, introduce yourself.”

 

_“Si, papá.”_

 

After everyone’s shaky introductions, they walked back over to where the goals were set up, a few still muttering to themselves at how David memorized their names so quickly.

 

“Have you still not told them about your photographic memory?”

 

Iker turned to face David with an exaggerated smile, “I wonder how many of your free kicks I can stop today.”

 

“You barely keep up with me in the yard, you know I’m not rusty.”

 

“But in those shoes? _Please_.” 

 

 

*

 

 

**POSTPONED**

Miami Odyssey VS Philadelphia Union

 

 

“A hurricane party, Reyes what—”

 

“Trust me, jefe.”

 

“Wh—Easton, not you, too.”

 

“It’s tradition, Iker. I promise.”

 

 

*

 

 

 **Miami Odyssey** and **Chicago Fire ** shared **Major League Soccer (MLS)** ‘s post: _{FLAMES.emoji}_ with **Tim Howard** and **Iker Casillas**

[HOWARD_CASILLAS_EXCHANGING_JERSEYS.jpg]

 

 

*

 

 

Morris missed the ball, but got his arm.

 

The physios tell him that his wrist should be healed in about three weeks.

 

David drops him off at his house and doesn’t offer to stay.

 

It’s better that way, after eating soup for dinner, Iker curled up in his bed after watching the afternoon news.

 

At his age, nothing fully healed in three weeks.

 

He didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight.

 

 

*

 

 

 _[Guaje]_  
_(18:46): you got injured because you knew you couldn’t stop me from scoring against you_  
_(18:47): {FROWN.emoji} {FROWN.emoji} {FROWN.emoji} {FROWN.emoji} {FROWN.emoji}_

_[Iker]_  
_(21:24): watch it i still remember which side you like to take your penalties_

_[Guaje]_  
_(00:02) get better soon_

_[Iker]_  
_(00:02) thank you_  
_(00:03): TQM_

_[Guaje]_  
_(00:03) {KISSY_FACE_WITH_HEART.emoji}  
(00:04): yo te quiero más!!_

 

*

 

 

He hated David Beckham.

 

He hated his trendy clothes and shiny shoes.

 

 Iker hated David and his inability to him leave alone

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I gave you half of this week to feel sorry for yourself, but now, you’re coming with me. C’mon, we’re going to Key West.”

 

“No, we’re—”

 

David grabbed Iker’s good arm, ignoring his protests. “Yes, we are. I’m not going to let you sit around and feel sorry for yourself for the next two and a half weeks.” Iker sighed, reluctantly following David to his car. It was shiny and new, too. “I don’t care if you ignore me the whole time we’re there, but you’re going.”

 

 

*

 

 

No one said anything until the second hour they were on the road, the last of which they spent stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

 

“Iker, I know what you’re going through. When my Achilles went—”

 

“You didn’t have a whole fucking franchise on your back, David.”

 

“I thought I was done for,” David continued like Iker hadn’t spoken. “But I wasn’t. I was able to keep on playing afterwards, and, hell, I won an MLS cup.  Listen, Iker, I know you’re scared.” he reached over to squeeze Iker’s arm. “You’re not going through this alone. You can talk to me or any of your other friends.” He sighed before straightening up again, frowning at someone’s use of the emergency lane as a fabricated short-term short cut. “I know what you’re going through. I was LA Galaxy’s first DP.”

 

The “Ever” at the end of David’s last sentence remained unsaid, but Iker still heard it clear enough.

 

“I know you’re scared. It’s three weeks, but the team’s still standing without you.”

 

“I’m old, David.”

 

“The physios know what they’re doing. If they said three weeks, it’ll be three weeks.”

 

 

*

 

 

 **davidbeckham** _posted a photo:_ Look who I finally got out of the house. _{PALM_TREE.emoji}_ **@IkerCasillas** #keywest #tbt

 

“’Throwback Thursday’, seriously?”

 

“Scholesy’s going to kill me if he finds out.”

 

“He’ll kill you if he heard that you fed me Wendy’s. Could you, at least, post a picture where I’m looking at the camera, next time?”

 

“It’s supposed to be artistic. Besides, I like those sunglasses on you.”

 

 

*

 

 

Iker fell asleep on the couch then they got back from their trip, still not used to being in a car for so long. He still wasn’t even fully used to the hours the team put in on the plane, either. Their flight to Colorado all those weeks ago was not pretty and he wasn’t looking forward to when they had to face the Timbers in Oregon.

 

He woke to a dark living room, though he could hear David rummaging around in the kitchen, next door. Iker stifled a yawn before he stood up to make his way into the kitchen, deciding to go see what David was up to and why he was making so much noise. The closer he got, he could make out David’s quiet murmuring while he talked on the phone.

 

_“Hey, he needed a vacation.”_

Iker didn’t know who David was talking to, but it still made him stop in his tracks while reality set in. Dread pooled in his stomach and he looked down at his arm brace in disgust for the first time in days. It was easy to forget the scope of his injury, to forget all the headlines that signaled his inevitable demise. They were a blow to his self-esteem, unwarranted, but understandable. Iker avoided them, but it was more difficult to ignore those that spoke about the team; it was dismissed as another failed ploy to squeeze money on the MLS, a group of untalented players overly dependent on their star.

 

He couldn’t forget those.

 

It was his fault, anyways.

 

Iker padded into the kitchen, feeling helpless. David’s back was to him, presumably staring at the spice rack in search of some inspiration for tonight’s dinner. Sighing, Iker placed his forehead against David’s shoulder blade, curling his fingers into the corner of David’s shirt. His bad arm hung limply beside him as he fought back the urge to curl it into a fist. It wouldn’t do his healing any good if he hit it against solid wood.

 

_“Scholesy, if anything, blame it on me, okay? No, I know I didn’t—”_

It was Iker’s fault.

 

Everything was.

 

His fault.

 

His fault.

His—

 

_“I know I’m not— Listen, I have to go.”_

Giving Scholes no time to reply, David hung up his phone and placed it on the kitchen counter before whirling around and wrapping Iker into a proper hug. David wrapped his arms tightly around Iker’s shoulders, while Iker’s arms hung slack beside him. David didn’t say anything, the silence only broken by David’s cellphone, though its buzzing quickly petered out.

 

They stood in silence for a while. Iker focused on the white caulk line on top of the granite, his breathing steady and even. It was only when he grabbed the hem of David’s shirt again, after a few long moments, when David finally moved. David sighed, dropping his arms from Iker’s shoulders to straighten up. David lightly brushed his thumb against Iker’s jaw, prompting Iker to finally look up and meet his gaze. David’s brows were furrowed in concern, mouth pursed into a frown. Iker let out a ragged breath. He couldn’t— He couldn’t—

 

Iker bowed his head, David’s breath hot against his cheekbone as they drew together again. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest on the verge of shattering. The “don’t” was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want to say it.

 

Maybe his heart was in pieces, but it was hard to make himself care.

 

 Not when Iker couldn’t tell who moved first. Not with David’s hands framing his face. Not when David’s lips fit so perfectly against his.

 

 The only traitorous words that managed to tumble out of his mouth were "don't stop" and David was only to happy to oblige.

 

 

*

 

 

 The sound of David complaining about Iker’s phone woke him up.

 

“¿Sí?” He felt rather than heard David grumbling while David buried his face in Iker’s neck, tightening his hold on Iker’s hip.

 

_“If I get you a ticket to the game, will you come?”_

“Wh— “

 

_“Henry wants to come, too. Just say yes.”_

 

 

*

 

 

“Couldn’t Villa get us seats in the box? Jesus fu— “

 

“We should be fine,” Iker interjected, though the sneer he directed at Raúl said otherwise. “Most of us, at least.”

 

“Or none of us,” David counted with a shrug, trying to steal a nacho from Thierry as he squeezed by to get to his seat. “We’re sitting in the NYCFC supporters section wearing rival teams’ jerseys.”

 

“New York City is red,” Thierry stated matter-of-factually, now seated, before biting down on a nacho with a loud crunch.

 

“Shh,” David hissed.

 

Thierry slapped David’s hand away from his nachos, yet again, thus negating the effects of David’s talking-to. “Get your own.”

 

“We can’t wear their jersey, you know that.”

 

“But having your name plastered in Cosmos green on your back makes us slightly more of a target, doesn’t it?”

 

Raúl shrugged. “Gotta represent. ‘Sides, it’s not like they’re going to put us on the big-screen, anyways.”

 

 

*

 

_“It looks like Iker made it, after all.”_

_“And he brought some friends, too.”_

_“Yeah! You think Thierry and Raúl are rooting for their crosstown rivals, Alexi?”_

 

 

*

 

 **Raúl González** was at  Lombardi’s Coal Oven Pizza

 

Pasándola bien con **David Villa Sánchez** , **Iker Casillas** y **#AndoniIraola**! **#es** **pañolesennuevayork**

 

[IMG_1033.jpeg]

 

 

*

 

 

 

_(el vieyu and 3 others)_

(Titiritero): i cant believe u guys didnt invite me. 

 _(el vieyu added_ Gonzo _to the group)_

(Gonzo): we would’ve sent you a slice to qatar but it would’ve been cold when it got there

(donita): omfg

(el vieyu): _{CRYING_WITH_LAUGHTER.emoji}_

(el vieyu): _{CRYING_WITH_LAUGHTER.emoji}_

(el vieyu): _{CRYING_WITH_LAUGHTER.emoji}_

(Cascabel): raul you shouldn’t have done that

_(Titiritero sent an attachment)_

(donita): oh my god.

(el vieyu): _{SKULL.emoji}_

 _(Cascabel added_ Tarzan _to the group)_

(el vieyu): _{SKULL.emoji}_

(Cascabel): save him

(Tarzan): No can do. You’re fucked, Raul.

(el vieyu): _{SKULL.emoji}_

(Gonzo): how did you figure out where I live

(el vieyu): _{SKULL.emoji}_

(Cascabel): _{SKULL.emoji}_

(donita): _{SKULL.emoji}_

(Tarzan): _{SKULL.emoji}_

(Titiritero): _{GHOST.emoji}_

(Gonzo): _{ANGEL.emoji}_

 

 

*

 

 

**_BATTLE OF THE DINNER?_ **

**_MANCHESTER UNITED AND ARSENAL LEGENDS DINE TOGETHER IN NEW YORK_ **

****

_PATRICK VIEIRA AND DAVID BECKHAM BOTH SHARED IMAGES OF—_

 

 

*

 

 

 **raulgonzalez** , **zidane** , and **7 others** liked **davidbeckham** ‘s photo.

 **ikercasillas** liked **thierryhenry** ’s comment on **davidbeckham** ’s photo: _{SEE_NO_EVIL.emoji} {HEAR_NO_EVIL.emoji} {SPEAK_NO_EVIL.emoji}_

 **davidbeckham** and **4 others** liked **philipneville18** ’s comment on his photo: _{CRYING_WITH_LAUGHTER.emoji}_ Scholesy looks so happy to be there

 

 

*

 

 

After a few days of light practice – and not so light practice after Scholes found out that he went out for pizza with Raúl – Iker got the medical green light for Sunday’s game, the long awaited Floridian Derby: Miami vs Orlando. The PR staff had thrown a few names around, but none had stuck yet. That was the least of Iker’s worries, though. The hype surrounding the new rivalry, and potential new _clásico_ meant that he was working overtime on the media side of things.

 

He already had a joint interview with Kaká for Univision. They had chosen to film it in neutral grounds, taking the chance to play on the team’s respective mascots to promote the charity, Big Cat Rescue, in Tampa before Iker made his way north to the Citrus Bowl. It was fun to catch up with Ricky, even though the crew managed to catch a segment of him comically flinching away from a docile lion’s roar.

 

“Excited for the game, tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah,” Iker nodded, chuckling at Ricky’s mischievous smile. “You didn’t take me out so you could tire me out before hand, did you?”

 

Ricky smirked then chuckled breaking his mischievous façade., “It works out in my favor, I guess. I remember you said you hadn’t gone to Disney and this is the best I can do on such short notice. How about it, whoever wins pays for the tickets for the real parks next time?”

 

“Who’s gonna pay for dinner, now?” Iker laughed, though his amusement was short lived as he almost tripped walking onto the bridge.

 

Downtown Disney was more crowded than he expected, but it was nice. There was music basically on every corner, though Kaka promised him the best was to come. “This man plays a flamenco guitar, just up ahead. I thought you’d enjoy it.” 

 

It was a bit of a trek, but Iker couldn’t wait to stop by the shops that they passed. “And there’s restaurants all the way up here, too?”

 

“And amphibious cars,” Ricky shrugged like they weren’t that big of a deal “But, I’m taking you to the restaurant-slash-bar that usually plays the best music. Paradiso 37. Cyle mentioned it a couple of times and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Probably just serves overpriced drinks, but what can you do.”

 

“Isn’t that just Disney?”

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 **Ricardo Kaká** posted a photo: Gracias por las taquillas para ir a Disney, **Iker Casillas**. ¡Quiero que las navidades vengan ya!

 

[IMG_2122.jpeg]

 

 

 

> **Iker Casillas**  commented: I’ll get you next time!    

 

 

*

 

 

 **_@MiamiOdyssey_ ** _retweeted:_

➥ **@LAGalaxy:** _{HEART_EYES.emoji} {FLAMES.emoji}_ [DAVID_BECKHAM_SHIRTLESS_LA.jpg] 

 

 **@LAGalax** **y:** He was ours first. _{SMIRK.emoji}_ #DavidBeckham #LaGalaxy V.S. **@MiamiOdyssey** [DAVID_BECKHAM_FREE_KICK_GOAL_LA_GALAXY.gif]

 

 **@MiamiOdyssey** : He’s ours now. _{WINK.emoji}_ #DavidBeckham #MiamiOdyssey V.S. **@LAGalaxy** [DAVID_BECKHAM_CELEBRATING_GOAL_MIAMI.gif]

 

 

*

 

 

David didn’t stay at his house before the flight.

 

Iker texted him when he landed, only to get a curt reply.

 

It was to be expected. There was no telling what the press would ask while the team was in L.A. facing his former team.

 

“Jefe, did you see what Donovan wrote on twitter?”

 

“I’d really rather not.”

 

“Man, sucks to be Beckham, right now.”

 

 

*

 

 

_“Mr. Keane, what are your feelings about the upcoming game? Are you nervous?”_

_“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous. It’s like any other game, I can’t wait to play.”_

_“Mr. Casillas at the goal doesn’t intimidate you at all?”_

_“Iker Casillas is a great keeper, but he’s still human. Miami’s a good team, but they’ve been struggling these last few weeks. With the Galaxy’s current form, I’m sure we’re going to give them a run for their money. With Stevie and Gio clear to play, I say that Miami should be afraid of us.”_

 

 

*

 

**1 st half: 28:53**

LA Galaxy VS Miami Odyssey

StubHub Center

 

_“¡PENAL! ¡PENAL! ¡PENAL!”_

_“Que lastima lo del Miami. Estan tan desorganizados. Es un milagro que esta sea la primera oportunidad del Galaxy.”_

_“Aquí_ _va Robbie Keane._ _Esta acomodando la pelota. La va a cobrar y—¡SE LA PAROOOOOO! ¡VAYA ATAJADÓN DE IKER CASILLAS! EL PARTIDO SIGUE CERO A CERO”_

*

 

 

**FULL TIME**

LA Galaxy VS Miami Odyssey

StubHub Center

3 : 0

_Dos Santos 45’, 52’  
Gerrard (p.) 71’_

 

 

*

 

_"When do you get back?"_

 

Iker glanced over at Joselu to make sure he wasn't paying attention. It still looked like he was binge watching Club de Cuervos, but he kept talking to David in a quiet murmur. "Late. You?"

 

"Early."

 

Iker sighed before letting out a humorless chuckle, "It's gonna be a rough night."

 

_"I can't wait until you come back."_

 

"Your team won, technically."

 

_"Iker."_

 

"Sorry, I—" Iker bit his lip and rubbed his forehead, obviously frustrated. He didn't want to spend the night in the hotel room. Well, he didn't know what to do with himself, but spending the night in L.A. wasn't it. "I—"

 

_"I miss you, too. They're showing another version of our novela and I wish you were here."_

 

 

*

**_@CasillasWorld_ ** _retweeted:_

➥ **_@MiamiOdyssey_ :** We are happy to announce that next season the **@MiamiSirens** will be playing in the NWSL! Welcome, ladies!

 

 

*

 

 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get called up for the national team. Maybe next time.”

 

“Definitely next time. Did you see how NYCFC is doing thanks to Villa?”

 

David nodded, “They’re already top contenders for a playoff spot.”

 

“Yeah, so not getting called up isn’t that bad” Iker shrugged. “I need to focus on the club, making the playoffs out first year isn’t going to be easy. Well,” he smirked, giving David a sly look, “it might be easier, now.”

 

David groaned, ignoring the looks the people sitting around him gave him. “Nothing I can do will make you change your jersey, will it?”

 

“Tecatito still owes me. Besides, how else will I tell the world that Rooney’s our last DP?”

 

 

*

 

 

 **miguel_layun** posted a photo: Mira quien vino a vernos jugar. ¿Cómo le queda la playera del Tri a **@ikercasillas**?

 

 **h.herrera16** liked **teccatito** ’s comment on **miguel_layun** ‘s photo: Todavía le cuesta el gol a Jorge Campos 

 **ikercasillas** replied to **teccatito** 's comment on on **miguel_layun** ‘s photo: Ya tú verás _{WINK.emoji}_

 

 

_** FIN  ** _

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _playlist next chapter!_  
>  \- [Here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miami_MLS_team) is a link to Miami's MLS page (Where I got the owner's names from). I made up my own team name because there is a lot of cool concept art under Miami Vice and Inter Miami. Originally, I wanted to talk about the Everglades and the Florida panther a lot longer, but ya know.  
> \- Sorry for all of the Cruz Azul bashing; the Invictos Facebook page talks a lot about "Cruzazuleadas," as the team has often times been leading in a game by more than 3 goals and then later has ended up tying or losing.  
> \- Yes, I googled the flight times.  
> \- Becks is probably going to hire [Robeto Carlos instead of Paul Scholes](http://www.mlssoccer.com/post/2016/03/28/report-david-beckham-lines-coach-forthcoming-miami-team) but whatever  
> \- Shout out to numbnexus, a poketuber, for buying pink joggers on a vlog I watched lol  
> -[[RAUL_CASILLAS_HUG.jpg] ](https://www.instagram.com/p/dVhjD_TWD1/)  
> \- Jorge Perez-Navarro is a commentator for Univision and is famous for the nicknames he gives players during games, Unrelated, but another great commentator is Pablo Ramirez and he’s my personal favorite, with, of course, Andres Cantor (who I mention since Telemundo doesn’t have the right to cover MLS games as part of NBC Universe.) Also, former Real Madrid player Iván Zamorano was part of Univision Deportes’ news team during Copa America (bc Chile). Javier Zanetti worked with them too.  
> \- [Stoichkov VS Figo](http://en.as.com/en/2016/07/29/football/1469817600_392425.html)  
> \- Óscar “el Conejo” (The Rabbit) Pérez Rojas (b. 1973) is a 43-year-old Mexican goalkeeper that currently plays for Pachuca (on loan from Cruz Azul)  
> \- Jorge Campos Navarrete was a goalkeeper well known for his [bright kits](http://i.soccermania.com.mx/dam/saque-de-banda/15/08/drogas11.jpg/jcr:content/renditions/cq5dam.web.1280.1280.jpeg) – self-designed, according to his [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jorge_Campos) page. During his stint in Pumas UNAM, to get more playing time, he asked to be played as a striker because they had a different first choice goalkeeper, at the time.  
> \- Shout out to [footballia.net](http://footballia.net/matches/spain-united-states-confederations-cup) for inspiration for the scoreline set-up  
> \- [Iker has a really good memory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvUgnADzi_E)  
> \- [David seems like a really nice and patient teacher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tx6hoamHpw)  
> \- Also, I feel like I saw an ~artistic~ picture of Iker in sunglasses somewhere, like, ages ago, oh well,  
> \- [Where Xavi's nickname, the puppeteer, comes from.](http://www.thinkfootballideas.co.uk/single-post/2015/05/26/10-Interesting-Facts-about-Xavi-Hernandez) I made up the rest of them myself, can you guess who they are?  
> \- [[DAVID_BECKHAM_SHIRTLESS_LA.jpg]](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/LFXH-utOPBgUb45FZI5GPKzrxG4/fit-in/2048xorig/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2012/05/18/2/192/1922398/824393702ad2c9f1_INFphoto_1023959/i/David-Beckham-showed-off-his-backside-during-July-2009-match-New.JPG)  
>    
> Sorry for all of the links, but they're there in case you're interested!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments appreciated, but not required lol! (talk to me on [tumblr](http://kaligaga.tumblr.com/)).


	2. II. (la banda sonora)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The playlist! When I first started writing the fic, hence the melancholy vibes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it when I first started writing the fic, hence the sorta sad vibes, sorry! Every song is a Spanish song, so I also tried to translate everything myself to the best of my abilities. Enjoy, just click on the title to follow the link on youtube!

 

  
PLAYLIST

  
  
//

  
   
[Todo Tiene Su Final – Willy Colón ft. Héctor Lavoe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PuArD8Elkhw)  
  
Como el lindo clavel solo quiso florecer, y  
enseñarnos su belleza y marchito perecer,   
todo tiene su final,  
 nada dura para siempre   
tenemos que recordar que no existe eternidad.  
  
_[Like the pretty carnation only wanted to flower, and_  
_show us its beauty and died withered,_  
_everything has its end, nothing lasts forever_  
_we have to remember that eternity doesn’t exist. ]_

  
  
[El Contragolpe – Manu Chao](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZR6HUroMS5M)  
  
Ahora verás lo es tener las alas rotas,  
Ahora verás lo es llorar por la derrota.   
Lo que me trajo tu maldad no tiene nombre.  
  
_[Now you’ll see what it’s like to have broken wings,_  
_Now you’ll see how it’s like to cry over a defeat._  
_What your wickedness brought has no name.]_

  
  
[Llorar – Jesse y Joy ft. Mario Domm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OK_KvknlJxA)  
  
Y llorar, y llorar, (y llorar)  
No sirve de nada ahora que te perdí   
Te quiero recuperar   
Ven sálvame, despiérteme, rescátame   
Del sufrimiento.   
  
_[And to cry, and to cry, (and to cry)_  
_Is useless now that I lost you._  
_Come save me, wake me, rescue me_  
_from suffering.]_

  
  
[Me Cuesta Tanto Olvidarte –Tommy Torres](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBF_a_dkxfw)  
  
Y aunque fui yo quien decidió  
que ya no más.   
Y no me canse de jurarte   
que no habrá segunda parte.   
Me cuesta tanto olvidarte.   
Me cuesta tanto olvidarte.   
me cuesta tanto…  
  
_[And even though it was me who decided_  
_no more._  
_And I didn’t tire of swearing_  
_that there won’t be a second part._  
_It’s so hard to forget you._  
_It’s so hard to forget you._  
_It’s so hard…]_

  
[Aprovéchate – Café Tacuba](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=18&v=N9eroXvvCiI)  
  
Puedes hacer lo que quieras,   
pon mi mundo de cabeza,   
pero sí te aprovechas tú de mí,   
me aprovechare de ti.  
  
_[You can do whatever you want,_  
_put my world on its head,_  
_but if you take advantage of me,_  
_I’ll take advantage of you.]_

  
   
[Me Quedaré – Estopa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJv0iNj110E)  
  
Me quedaré con muchas ganas de verte   
vacío y sin aliento estaré   
a punto de encontrarte.   
Cuando se acabe el tiempo, volveré   
cuando no quede nadie   
a ver si están los restos del que fui   
pero ese nunca vuelve.   
  
_[I’ll stay with this need to see you,_  
_empty and breathless,_  
_close to finding you._  
_When time’s up, I’ll return_  
_when there’s no one left_  
_to see if the remains of the person I was are still there_  
_but he’ll never return.]_

  
  
  
[No Te Preoucupes Por Mi – Chayanne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5nnSi0J6uE)  
  
Yo que de mi te di todo  
todo lo devuelves roto   
loco despecho por poco me echo al vacio   
y ahora me río.   
  
_[I that I gave you everything_  
_everything you return broken_  
_crazy with spite I almost threw myself into the abyss_  
_and now I laugh.]_

  
   
   
[Piensa En Mí – Natalia Lafourcade ft. Paco Familiar y Ismael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbVND6uRBwU)  
  
Piensa en mí cuando sufras, cuando llores,   
también piensa en mí, cuando quieras   
quitarme la vida,   
No la quiero para nada,   
para nada me sirve sin tí.  
  
_[Think of me when you suffer, when you cry,_  
_also think of me when you want_  
_to take my life,_  
_I do not want it at all_  
_It’s worthless to me without you.]_

  
  
[Ya No Me Acuerdo – Estopa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzymcUk5XXk)  
  
Dicen que el tiempo y el olvido   
Son como hermanos gemelos.   
  
_[They say that time and forgetting_  
_are like twin brothers.]_

  
   
[Hoy Tengo Miedo – Fobia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4Kq5BRv0ZA)  
  
Hoy tengo miedo de salir otra vez  
tengo miedo de volver a caer  
me dan miedo las mentiras ya no tengo más fe  
tengo miedo de volver a creer.  
  
Y digo no seas tonto  
no seas tan escéptico  
no trates de escapar.  
  
_[Today I’m scared of leaving again_  
_I’m scared of falling again_  
_lies scare me I have no more faith_  
_I’m afraid to believe._  
  
_And I say don’t be stupid_  
_don’t be so skeptical_  
_don’t try to escape.]_

  
  
  
[Escapar de Noche – La Gusana Ciega](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naC6nJv4keg)  
  
Dime dónde quieres que te espere.  
Déjame quererte para siempre.   
  
Te quiero regalar mi vida.  
  
_[Tell me where you want me to wait for you,_  
_let me love you forever._  
_  
__I want to give you my life.]_

  
  
[Fugáz – Panteón Rococó](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WX0bsZCn4yI)  
  
Y ser tu héroe, tus risas, tus juegos, tu sueños, tu canto  
  
Y dibujarte castillos con sueños perdidos   
Volvértelos realidad.  
  
_[And be your hero, your laughter, your games, your dreams, your song_  
  
_And draw castles with lost dreams_  
_make them a reality]_

 

[Gracias A La Vida – Mercedes Sosa y Joan Báez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMuTXcf3-6A)  
  
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto   
Me ha dado el sonido y el abecedario   
Con él las palabras que pienso y declaro   
Madre, amigo, hermano y luz alumbrando  
La ruta del alma del que estoy amando.  
  
_[Thanks to life that has given me so much_  
_It’s given me sound and the alphabet._  
_With him the words I think and declare_  
_Mother, friend, brother and shining light_  
_the route to the soul of him who I am loving.]_

  
  
[Mi Vida – DLD](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dapgfO59ar8)  
  
Yo he rodado de acá para ya  
fui de todo y sin medida   
pero te juro por dios que nunca lloraras   
por lo que fue mi vida.   
  
_[I’ve ridden from here to there,_  
_I was everything and without measure._  
_But I swear to God that you’ll never cry_  
_over what my life was.]_

  
  
[Creo En Mí – Natalia Jiménez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgwbhc7Pl4w)  
  
No me asustan los misiles ni las balas,  
tanta guerra me dio alas de metal.  
…  
Vuelo libre, sobrevuelo las granadas.   
Por el suelo no me arrastro nunca más.   
  
_[Missiles and bullets don’t scare me,_  
_so much war gave me wings of metal._  
_…_  
_I fly free, I fly over the grenades._  
_I’ll never drag myself across the ground again.]_


End file.
